


Sweet, Private, and Bright as Daylight

by royalblade



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood Drinking, Confessions, Getting Together, M/M, No Spoilers, Pining, Vampire AU, ferdinand appreciation squad, hey i dont have an excuse i just wanted to write gay vampire shit, i got their a+ support lol, members: hubert and ME
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 22:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20433527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalblade/pseuds/royalblade
Summary: He yearned, worse than he had ever known in life. For warmth beneath his fingertips, for warmth beneath his teeth, and perhaps most of all, for Ferdinand beneath both.





	Sweet, Private, and Bright as Daylight

Lady Edelgard had been inhuman for several long years, Hubert remembered the moment he saw her after so many long months apart clearly; her eyes were rubies, her nails sharp, and her hair white as snow.

Her Majesty had confided, during long nights or while she was streaked with his blood, that the transformation had been unbearable in too many ways to count.

_I longed, _she had said, _to be part of the living, it was all consuming, I wanted to taste, to feel, to be, to have._

_Did it ever get better?_ He asked one quiet night

Her red eyes darted to the floor, she smiled ruefully, and he knew the enigma she was envisioning well; _It did, but sometimes I find myself still yearning._

When Her Majesty had deemed it necessary to turn him against life as well, she did not do it as a mercy. It had hurt, more than he had predicted it would. Her nails in his throat hurt, her blood in his mouth tasted like poison, and he choked and gurgled on his own blood until he was able to scream again.

Hubert found, shortly after he had recovered his wits, that Her Majesty had been correct about the yearn for life. He yearned, worse than he had ever known in life. For warmth beneath his fingertips, for warmth beneath his teeth, and perhaps most of all, for Ferdinand beneath both.

Yearning was not new to Hubert, he had yearned for the better part of five years. He was well acquainted with the tug in his chest watching Ferdinand laugh from across the room, the twitch of his fingers as Ferdinand flipped his hair away from his shoulder, the glint of his golden eyes in the warm light.

But after turning he found he still could not dismiss these feelings as distractions or fruitless wanting. He could see, in startling definition the shine in his eyes, the stands of his hair catching sunlight, and when he closed his eyes he could hear Ferdinand’s voice, clear and bright, could hear his breathing, and if he was close enough, the beating of his heart, warm, alive, beloved.

He yearned, Goddess did he yearn, but Hubert knew his place; bloody, in Her Majesty’s shadow. Not alongside anyone. Hubert had become a monstrosity to fulfill his role, he was now, more than ever, uncompanionable, but it didn’t stop the thoughts in his head, the images behind his eyelids, the weakness in his knees.

So he would prop his chin up on his fist, and watch Ferdinand argue with Her Majesty over a detail frankly asinine, admire the soft light gleaming in his eyes, think about running his hand through his sunset sky hair, watch the way his pink lips formed syllables.

And inevitably Ferdinand would turn his gaze to look at Hubert, challenging him to come up with a better idea than his. Hubert would always glare, give a counterpoint, appeal to Her Majesty’s ruthless nature. He played this game with himself, how fast could he react to not get caught staring at Ferdinand, how well could he fool the company at the table, how well could he fool himself…. he rarely lost.

“I think,” He would begin, “Duke Aegir’s suggestion, while possessing merits, is inane-”

And then they would argue again. While a large part of his job description was to argue with the other ministers, his primary motivation was often to enjoy Ferdinand’s voice, watch him narrow his eyes and scowl, he never got too worked up, and Hubert would find his thoughts wandering, what it would be like to truly get Ferdinand riled up? To see him flush with anger, his voice losing composure, and…

They didn’t fight like they used to, back during academy days, but still Hubert found himself yearning for some semblance of old attention, positive or negative. He would think of Ferdinand’s pale skin, his long hair, of warm hands wandering and warm blood beneath his fangs. He yearned for Ferdinand’s hands on his skin, clawing or caressing, kind or cruel, for better or for worse. Her Majesty had been correct, it did hurt, more than he could have suspected.

It hurt in the morning, and beneath the moonlit sky. It hurt when he watched Ferdinand smile over a glass of champagne, and when he was alone in his bed, it hurt when he was alone walking down stone corridors, and it hurt doubly when Ferdinand decided that torturing him in meeting rooms was not enough.

“And where are you lurking off to?”

Hubert freezes mid stride, he had noticed the steps of someone nearby, but had dismissed them as a servant up late doing laundry or preparing tomorrow's bread. Instead it was Ferdinand, here to haunt him once more in the flesh. Hubert turned, strong words forming on his tongue, but then lost steam as he saw Ferdinand’s face; he was beautiful in the dim torch light, as always, and he was smiling lightly. Not a jab then… just another small cruelty the goddess had decided to subject him to.

Ferdinand began to step closer, and Hubert was vividly aware of his footsteps in the dim, his breathing, the beating of his heart. “I am...” he begins, realizing he had not yet responded, “going out on personal business.”

Ferdinand raises an eyebrow, “Personal business? You mean you are going to feed right? No need to look so scandalized, the Emperor has already informed me on some of the details about the ah, condition.

Hubert’s fingers twitched, he had not intended to feed tonight, but Ferdinand’s presence was not making him feel any better, and the way he cocked his head to the side, shifting his hair and showing off the pale skin of his throat could not have been a mistake.

“Her Majesty has _informed_ you?”

“If you two keep all your little secrets to yourselves, then who will help you when you’re in trouble?”

Hubert filed that motivation away, “I assure you there will not be an occasion where I require ‘help’. Either way, why do you care who I drink from?”

Ferdinand shrugged, “I’m just concerned that if you fill yourself with the blood of a commoner you’ll begin to think like one too. Plus, there’s no way to know what kind of diseases the peasantry could be carrying, anything could happen.”

Images flashed through his mind, Ferdinand beneath his hands, his warm mouth pressed against his, the beat of his pulse beneath his lips. Hubert swallowed, and stepped forward, watching Ferdinand tilt his head up to keep eye contact, watching more of his pale throat being exposed from under his collar. “And who would you suggest I drink from instead?”

Ferdinand smirked in a way that made Hubert want to forget his place and push Ferdinand against a wall, “Well, there’s quite an eligible noble before you now.”

Hubert swallowed, he stepped closer to Ferdinand, nearly touching him, “Is that really what you want?”

“It’s my job to keep Her Majesty well advised and protected, if that means taking care of you too, then so be it”

Hubert felt disappointment rush through him, dark and sickening, “So this is purely work related?”

Hands reached up to clutch at his coat lapels and as Ferdinand tugged Hubert found himself following, leaning closer to his pretty smiling lips, “Well, maybe I do have a personal interest in it.”

His eyes gleamed in the low light and Hubert could see a light dusting of pink over his pale cheeks, “You aren’t very subtle, I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“I’m not supposed to eat nobility,” He murmured, chest tight as his eyes drew to the curve of Ferdinand’s throat.

“Surely a taste wouldn’t hurt me.”

Hubert’s slipping resolve disappeared in a flash as Ferdinand tugged on his lapels once again, he pushed Ferdinand against the corridor wall harder than he had intended. Ferdinand grunted as his head smacked against the stone wall, Hubert grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head to the side. He leaned forward, then paused, feeling anxiety well up again.

“Sorry,” He muttered, but Ferdinand simply sighed in and tilted his head further, bearing his neck.

“You’re okay,” he breathed, leaning into the hand pulling his hair.

Hubert tried to focus his thoughts past Ferdinand’s breathy voice, and instead on the man’s body before him. He could smell the blood beneath Ferdinand’s skin, hear his heartbeat, feel the fire beneath Ferdinand’s skin, ready to burn him up.

Hubert brushed a lock of hair away from Ferdinand’s shoulder and began to pull away his coat, unbutton his shirt, just enough so that he could see pale skin, clean and smooth, unmarked. He wanted to mark Ferdinand, wanted to sink his teeth into his neck, claim him for all the world to see. He wanted so dearly to satisfy his longing, to touch, hold, have. Something akin to illness set to root in his heart as he realized he was satisfying Ferdinand’s curiosity, and not a deeper desire they both could share.

But Ferdinand was not objecting, he was compliant beneath Hubert’s hands, and if anything annoyed with his hesitation.

“Well? Get on with it.” he complained.

Hubert glanced at his face, annoyance and something deeper, something that made his still heart seem to beat again, he flexed his hand in Ferdinand’s hair and caught it, pleasure and want. The same kind, he desperately hoped, was in his heart too.

He pushed at Ferdinand’s coat and shirt, exposing his bare throat, hot against his hands, Hubert leaned forward, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to Ferdinand’s pulse. Ferdinand’s heart was racing, warm and thick and so close, Hubert exhaled slowly to try and focus on where he was, what he was doing, and not on Ferdinand under his hands, veins beneath his teeth. He moved a hand down Ferdinand’s chest, slipping it into his coat and pressing against his sternum, Hubert felt the rise and fall of his chest and the small shiver that ran through Ferdinand as he puffed air against his ear.

“Not so prickly now huh?” Ferdinand teased.

“You’ve too much hair...”

To make his point, he pulls on Ferdinand’s hair again, and relishes in the small intake of air, the tension building in his muscles, the concave of his chest.

Ferdinand reaches for him, fingers clasping the lapels of his coat, pulling him closer, “You don’t seem to mind.”

Hubert opens his mouth, he draws his tongue across the slope of Ferdinand’s neck, relishing the taste of sweet flesh and anticipation. Ferdinand shivers beneath him, and he leans in closer, pressed him against the wall, relishing in the warmth. It feels almost like a dream, and perhaps it is, his desires dissolving into sleep to target him in his weakest moments, but if he was dreaming, then he had never dreamed so vividly before. Hubert takes a breath that he doesn’t need, and finally sinks his teeth into Ferdinand.

If Ferdinand’s skin was hot, his blood is boiling; thick and metallic, Herbert’s mouth fills with it. Ferdinand inhales sharply, but doesn’t flinch. He can feel Ferdinand’s heart beating rapidly beneath his hand, he can hear it in his ears and feel it beneath his tongue, Ferdinand tastes realer, more substantial than a dream, and the fact that Hubert has been thinking about him, dreaming about him, longing to touch him and drink from him, only makes it better.

The flow of blood began to slow, and Hubert nipped at Ferdinand’s neck, eyes shut tight, wanting more more more.

Ferdinand groaned, he leaned his head further to the side, “You know,” he huffed, “this isn’t so bad, I can almost see the appeal.”

“Please be quiet.”

“Ah, you’re... you're making that a little difficult.”

Hubert pulled away, loathing to leave the warm embrace of Ferdinand’s shoulder, but as he laid eyes on the flush coloring Ferdinand’s face, his partially opened mouth, pink and breathing shallowly, his eyes fluttering closed, he felt like he would truly combust.

Ferdinand opened his eyes, dark and wanting, and reached out a hand, swiping his thumb across Hubert’s lower lip. It came away red, and Ferdinand popped the finger in his mouth, smiling cheekily.

The ghost of Ferdinand’s thumb is warm against his lip, and Ferdinand is warm against his hands and he wants to be closer, so much closer, he wants to touch that mouth and feel some kind of catharsis for the yearning, the doubt, the-

As if hearing his thoughts Ferdinand reaches up to card fingers through his hair and pulls him forward, when their lips meet Hubert realizes this is much better, much better than good, much better than perfect.

Ferdinand isn’t afraid of his fangs, and he kisses Hubert with fever, mouth hot and tongue wandering, Hubert’s mind shuts off, and instead he runs his hands up and down Ferdinand’s chest, trying to satisfy the yearning, trying to get at least some of that warmth inside.

This must be unpleasant... Hubert thinks of his bloody taste and cool body, but Ferdinand is so alive, hot and alluring, and he can’t bear to move away, so he lets Ferdinand tilt his head, let’s him lick the inside of his mouth and pull his hair until it stings.

When Ferdinand pushes him away he’s breathless despite not needing to breathe, something inside him is colder now that he’s not kissing Ferdinand anymore, and he watches a string of salvia stretch between them before it snaps.

Ferdinand’s lips are red, and his skin is pale and flushed, and he’s framed with his beautiful hair, blood is welling up on his neck, and Hubert hungers to taste and feel every inch of him.

“Why?” Ferdinand demands, breathing hard and fast, “Tell me why you’re here,”

Hubert isn’t sure what he’s referring to, he knows that Hubert lives in the Imperial castle, obviously called him over, but Hubert senses a more severe meaning, so instead he leans in to that pale bloody neck and speaks as honestly as his heart can bear.

“You’re warm Ferdinand, so warm, like fire beneath my fingers, when I touch you I feel like I’m burning up on the inside ... “

He pressed his mouth to the wounds, and eagerly drank up the blood that welled up, hot beneath his lips, his hands, his thighs as he pressed closer, hanging over Ferdinand, “I want to touch you, to feel every part of you. I want your attention, good or bad. Love me, hate me, just don’t ignore me.”

“Hubert,” Ferdinand said shakily, one of those warm hands slid across his back, the other carded through his hair.

Hubert turns to kiss the slope of Ferdinand’s neck, he knows intellectually he needs to stop drinking, lest Ferdinand faints, but the man makes it hard when he presses Hubert closer, sighs tinted with pleasure, when he’s so warm and perfect and right there for Hubert to touch.

Hubert trails kisses up his neck and along his jawline, he leans back to see Ferdinand again, trapped between the desires to touch him and to behold him. Ferdinand makes the choice for him though, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him sloppily, he pushes Hubert away, and says, face flushed and eyes wide, “Don’t go out anymore, okay? Come to me, I can't stand the idea of someone else’s hands on you. I’ll give you whatever you need, okay? You’re impossible for me to ignore.”

He kisses Hubert again, rough, nails digging into his skin, Ferdinand is hot hot hot, burning Hubert up. Maybe, he thinks, he will fall to ash in Ferdinand’s hands, smited by a sun of a different kind. Ferdinand is bright and hot and beautiful, his hair is a brilliant ginger and his eyes are like twin suns smoldering in the sky, his sun, maybe, if he could dare to be so demanding.

They pull apart again, and Hubert looks at Ferdinand’s swollen lips and bloody neck and the desire in his eyes, feels like he’s about to combust, he’s hot beneath his palms and under his collar.

“Hubert, lets go elsewhere, my quarters, how about?”

“Yes, whatever you’d like” he says, still caught up in that pretty mouth and those eyes to put any energy into thoughts that aren’t the man right before him.

Ferdinand smiles at him, sweet and private and bright as daylight.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks 4 reading my self indulgent vampire shit!! i wrote so much more but lost motivation to edit it, so maybe vampire smut in future? we will see. i've been writing a LOT for fe, so more ships to come in the future.
> 
> anyways been playing edel's route, the best part is easily just getting to see that beautiful woman every day, i want to write byleth/edel but no idea rn... 
> 
> edelgard plz call me back u left ur cape at my house and i love u and miss u


End file.
